"Go ahead and do your work mumma",
Says my little one with a little ummah,
On my shoulder,
"I'll work on a cool laptop too, when I'm older",
He mutters under his breath,
My weakness and my strength,
My little boy,
With his endless demand for toys,
"Show me the money you made today mumma",
He says with another ummah,
"I love my mumma very much",
"She makes the money for my monthly toys", he says with a gentle touch,
Or with a mega hug,
That involves running off the bed and throwing himself on me like a thug,
What would I do without my baby boy,
He keeps me sane, despite his fixation for a million toys.
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